THE BATH, aka 'Cattle Drive,' Reimagined
by MightyMiaBoo
Summary: This story explores what might have been going through Michaela's and Sully's minds during that famously-intimate and sensual bathing/neck-washing scene in "Cattle Drive" - Season 3.


**A****UTHOR'S NOTE: **_I would probably rate this story somewhere between a "T" and an "M." It is certainly not suitable for kids, but it is by no means completely explicit, either. However, there are some "adult" references, so, in an abundance of caution, I've given the story in "M" rating on this website_.

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own the characters from ****_Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman_****, or any dialogue from the script for this episode which I've incorporated into my story. The rights to those characters, the script and to the show belong to the creators of the show, to CBS, The Sullivan Company and to A&E. **

**THE BATH** (aka, "Cattle Drive," Re-imagined)

by Mia

The birth of the baby calf had left the group -- and especially Brian -- excited, but a bit tired as well. It had been a long day on the Cattle Drive. Though it would be well over an hour 'til sundown, Matthew had decided that they would make camp for the evening, to give everyone a chance to rest up and start fresh in the morning. They'd gotten quite a roaring fire going, and Grace and Colleen had begun making supper.

Finally able to sit still for the first time that day, Sully looked around the camp for Michaela, and noticed that she was missing. He got up and checked the wagon. She wasn't there either, but he noticed that one of the buckets and a bar of soap were gone. He walked into the thicket a short distance away, figuring that she'd gone there to wash off the remnants of the calf's birth, along with the daily dirt and grime that were such an integral part of the Cattle Drive.

As usual, Sully's instincts regarding his fiancée were right. He spotted her in a clearing as he rounded a clump of bushes, kneeling over a bucket of water and attempting to wash her arms. Hearing him approach, Michaela turned around and greeted him with a shy smile. An idea then came to him about how he could make this experience a bit more pleasant for her.

"We've gotta fire going ... Wouldn't that water feel a lot nicer if it was warm?" he asked, already knowing her answer. His fathomless blue eyes seemed to see right through to her soul.

"Yes, that would be nice," she responded, somewhat hesitantly.

"I'll be right back," he said, his caring eyes full of promise, and something more that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Michaela looked down at her filthy blouse in dismay. Since Sully would soon be back with warm water for her, she decided to use the bucket of cold water to wash the garment. As she unbuttoned her blouse, she briefly wondered about the propriety of his seeing her in her camisole. Pushing aside her puritanical Boston upbringing, she dismissed the very idea of impropriety. He'd just seen her help birth a calf, for goodness sakes! She was covered in blood, grime, and goodness knows what else! Surely, he would understand that she just needed to clean her blouse, and would read nothing further into it. They were in somewhat extenuating circumstances, to say the least.

Sully walked back into the clearing, bucket in hand. When he spotted Michaela, his mouth went dry. She had removed her blouse when he'd gone to get the warm water, and was now washing it in the bucket of cold water, her back to him. He admired her lithe form, her arms and shoulders flexing as he scrubbed the garment. Her skin was slightly flushed from her exertions, giving it the appearance of warm, rich cream. His fingers practically itched with the need to touch her, to see if her skin was as smooth and soft as it looked. And what made her all the more enticing to him was that she was most likely unaware of the effect she was having on him.

Michaela felt Sully's presence even before she heard or saw him re-enter the clearing. She felt his eyes on her, intently watching. Suddenly aware that she wearing nothing but a flimsy camisole on the upper half of her body, she was unable to stop a slight blush from creeping up her face. She was already somewhat flushed from scrubbing the blouse and from the bit of sun she'd gotten while sitting in the bright clearing, so she hoped he wouldn't notice.

Oh, but Sully did notice the appealing blush that suffused Michaela's neck and shoulders with a rosy glow, as he approached and sat close behind her on the ground. Like a moth to a flame, he couldn't resist -- he had to touch her.

"Here, let me," he said. He was so close that she could feel the deep timbre of his voice vibrate through her, and his warm breath on her bare shoulder.

Before she could respond, Sully dipped his hand in the warm water and brushed it against her arm. Startled, Michaela jumped at his light touch, as if stung. The sudden movement caused the strap of her camisole to fall off her shoulder, exposing even more of her creamy skin to his ardent gaze. He paused, completely expecting her to protest and put a stop to this new, intimate contact. Instead, after a few seconds, she simply conceded, "Feels good," her voice slightly husky. The combination of innocence and longing in her voice stirred him deeply; he longed to see and feel more of her.

Recalling Michaela's skittishness at the touch of his bare hand, Sully figured that the best way to put her at ease was to focus on the task at hand: Washing the residue from the calf's birth off her arms. He didn't want to alarm her and break the sensual spell that surrounded them. So he grabbed the washcloth that he'd brought back with him from the wagon, dipped it in the warm water, and proceeded to gently rub her arm with it. Against his every male instinct, he pushed the errant strap of her camisole back onto her shoulder.

Michaela fought to suppress a sigh of pleasure in response to Sully's ministrations. The moment his hand -- warm from the water -- had touched her, she'd felt as though a bolt of lightning had shot up her bare arm. Her skin felt warm and tingly where he'd softly stroked her arm, and her heart began to race. She instinctively swayed towards him, wanting more. Thank heavens her back was to him so he couldn't see the profound effect his touch was having on her, which she was certain was written all over her face! She felt a combination of relief and disappointment when he began to use the washcloth instead of his bare hands to wash her. Her mind was grateful for the slight reprieve from the overpowering sensations that his unimpeded touch had caused; but her heart and body missed the feel of his warm, slightly work-roughened hands on her skin.

Using the washcloth left Sully feeling strangely bereft. Still marveling at the fact that Michaela had not yet stopped him, he succumbed to his craving to feel her beautiful skin again. As if answering the unspoken yearning that emanated for her, he whispered, "Let me wash your neck."

His voice broke her out of her sensual reverie, and her New England notions of propriety began to surface once again. "Oh, no ... you don't have to," she protested. Feeling his warm breath against the side of her neck had already caused shivers to run up and down her spine. She could only imagine what his touching her there would do!

But Sully would not be denied. "Lift up your hair," he said, not giving her a chance to object further.

Lacking the inclination to resist what her body so insistently desired, Michaela surrendered to his request. She lifted her hair off her neck, and moved it aside.

Again, he dipped his hand in the tepid water, and proceeded to softly stroke behind her neck and shoulders. His touch was so gentle, so loving, that it felt like a caress. This time, she couldn't contain her blissful sigh; she closed her eyes and tilted her head back in rapture. His hands felt like heaven on her sensitive skin, and she wanted him never to stop.

Sully noticed Michaela trying in vain to conceal her reaction to him, and he suppressed a smile. Goosebumps had appeared on her skin the moment he'd touched her neck, despite the fact that both his hands and the water were warm. The endearing flush on her skin had turned into a full-on blush, further exciting his senses. And her sigh -- so full of passion and longing that it was almost a moan of pleasure -- was his undoing. His reaction was swift and immediate. Even as his buckskins became uncomfortably tight, his body drove him to satisfy his need to feel more, see more, and experience more of her.

Entranced by the silky curtain of Michaela's hair, Sully softly commented, "When I first saw ya, I remember thinkin' ... you had the most beautiful, long brown hair I ever saw."

Her blush intensified and her skin warmed in response to his intimate touches and words. Rather than stemming the sensual tide that flowed between them, his compliment only served to increase their mutual yearning to be even closer to each other.

As if beckoning to him, the strap of Michaela's camisole fell off her shoulder once again, exposing a beguiling expanse of skin stretching from her arm to her neck. Sully was powerless to resist: He needed to taste her. Quickly discarding the washcloth that he'd used in a futile attempt to control his clamoring desire, he bent his head and planted a soft kiss on the bare skin of her shoulder, watching for her reaction.

Just when she thought she would explode from the feeling of Sully's hands on her neck, Michaela felt his lips against her naked shoulder. It was all she could do to stifle a moan of ecstasy. A rush of pleasurable, indescribable feelings coursed through her body; and her heart started beating so hard and fast that she was sure he could hear it. Her breath began to come in short pants, the rapid rise and fall of her chest pushing her suddenly turgid and sensitive nipples against the material of her camisole. Instinctively, she leaned her head further to one side, giving him greater access to the place where she so desperately wanted to feel his lips. She was rewarded with another kiss; this time, to her neck.

Michaela was awash in a sea of sensual emotions. It felt like her whole body was pulsing; and the uncontrollable throbbing was especially intense in her lower belly and between her thighs. Her entire body was afire, and she began to yearn for something she couldn't name, something that would quench her body's insistent thirst for more pleasure. Intuitively, she knew that the incredible sensations coursing through her had something to do with "procreation," but her dry, emotionless medical texts had never described feelings even remotely close to these! She'd only had an inkling of what Sully had meant a few weeks ago when he'd said that not everything one needed to know about "the birds and the bees" could come from a book. Now, she understood exactly what he'd meant!

Once it became clear where this was going, Michaela's rational mind knew that they should stop; and stem the tide of rapturous sensations that could quickly carry them beyond the point of no return. But rational thought was rapidly becoming futile, and she found it impossible to do anything but feel.

Michaela's intensely passionate response to his kissing her shoulder surprised and delighted Sully, even as it inflamed him further. He'd suspected, and hoped, that she would be as passionate in their romantic encounters as she was about other aspects of her life: Her children, her medical practice, her caring for the well-being of others, and her sense of justice and fairness. He'd seen glimmers of her romantic passion in the past, like her enthusiastic response to his kiss when he'd proposed to her in the Sweat Lodge a few months back. But her unfettered reaction to his present ministrations was beyond his wildest dreams. Many nights, he'd lain awake in the lean-to he called home, torturing himself with images of what it would be like when they finally joined together, as man and wife, in every sense of the word. But what he was now experiencing already far surpassed his deepest fantasies. He couldn't help but notice her arching her neck to encourage his exploration of her soft skin; and her nipples outlined in bold relief against the front of her thin camisole. He valiantly fought the urge to reach around to caress her breasts and straining nipples, knowing that this would be crossing the line. Instead, he planted another kiss on her neck, only to hear her purr in ecstasy.

Sully could not have controlled his own fervent response to Michaela -- his gorgeous, sensual Heartsong -- even if he'd tried. He wanted her so badly it hurt. Desperately seeking an outlet for his escalating passion, he turned her head and captured her lips with his. His tongue gently but insistently probed her mouth, seeking entry. And Michaela, swept up in the raw sensuality of the moment, did not deny him; but rather, willingly opened herself to his exploration, meeting his tongue with hers. He had never felt more alive in his life.

Michaela and Sully were so absorbed in their passion for each other that they didn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching the thicket. Matthew had seen Dr. Mike, and then Sully, walk into the clearing earlier; and he followed to let them know that supper was now ready. He walked through the low-hanging tree branches surrounding the clearing, unprepared for the sight that would meet his eyes. There were the couple, locked in what could only be termed a lovers' embrace. They were kissing; Sully's hands were caressing Dr. Mike's arms and shoulders, and she had her hands on his chest, which was, thankfully, still fully clothed in his shirt. Matthew came to an abrupt halt, unsure of what to do. It was too late for him to slip away unnoticed -- his approach to the clearing had been too noisy for that -- and he was sure that the two would soon realize that they were no longer alone. So, he loudly cleared his throat instead.

When the sound of Matthew's footsteps and throat-clearing finally registered with the preoccupied lovebirds, they jumped apart as if struck. Michaela looked up, mortified to see her elder son, Matthew, glancing uncomfortably around -- at his feet, at the bushes surrounding them, at the blue sky overhead -- anywhere but at them. She noticed that even the normally unflappable Sully had begun to blush, looking like a young child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Sully angled his body so that his lower half was almost behind her and out of Matthew's sight; although it didn't occur to her until much later why he'd done so. She couldn't suppress her smile at her fiancé's obvious discomfiture.

"Uh, sorry," Matthew mumbled, his eyes downcast. "Um, supper's ready."

Powerless to change what Matthew had witnessed and suddenly seeing the humor in the situation, all Michaela could do was laugh softly. "Thank you, we'll be along," she said, somewhat guiltily. Matthew, relieved to be making his escape from the awkward scene, jogged back to camp as fast as he could.

Michaela and Sully looked at one another and exploded in giggles. They both knew that their passion would never have gone beyond the point of no return. He respected her too much to push her to do anything that she'd later regret; and besides, it was neither the right time nor the right place. He knew that she wanted to wait until they were married to explore complete physical intimacy with him, and she deserved her wish to be fully loved and cherished for the first time as his wife. He could, and would, wait for her forever, if that's what it took. He loved her that much.

Releasing his sensual tension in a low growl, Sully affectionately pecked Michaela on the cheek, and said, with a wink, "I guess we'd better get back to camp ... before Brian comes lookin' for us, this time." She laughed and blushed an even deeper shade of pink.

"Yes, now that would _really _not do," she agreed, with a smile. She stood, brushing the grass off her skirt, and reached to empty the bucket of cold water in which she had washed her blouse. Likewise, Sully came to his feet and emptied his bucket of now-cold water down the embankment at the other side of the clearing. He grasped Michaela's hand and made to walk out of the clearing and back to the brightly-blazing campfire; then, he suddenly paused.

"Sully?" she said, questioningly. "Is everything alright?"

"Um, Michaela, I think it might be a good idea if we stopped by the wagon before headin' to supper," he said in an amused tone.

"Why is that?" she asked, innocently. In her excitement over Sully's caresses and the ensuing embarrassment over being caught by Matthew, Michaela had forgotten that her top half was clad only in her camisole. Reaching for her shoulder, Sully gently flicked the strap of her camisole that had fallen earlier in their passionate encounter, granting him total access to her enchantingly smooth skin.

"I don't think what you've got on is exactly 'appropriate' supper attire," he said, with a gleam in his eye.

Michaela's reaction as she looked down -- realizing her state of "under-dress" -- was priceless. She blushed for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day.

"You're a very wise man, Mr. Sully," she said, giggling. With that, she grasped his hand, and they headed over to the wagon on the way back to camp.

**The End**


End file.
